


Matchmaking 101

by Sorran



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bad Matchmaking, Communication is everything, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, candlelight dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorran/pseuds/Sorran
Summary: Matchmaking for beginners, or: Rick and Daryl enjoy dinner.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Michonne, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes/Michonne, Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	1. Dinner for two

**Author's Note:**

> You don't even want to know how many years this has been sitting in my Google drive nearly finished.

Out of habit, Daryl slaps his hand against the wall by the door a few times before telling himself not to be stupid. They cleared Alexandria up good, the walls are fixed and sturdier than ever, and all the empty houses are checked regularly. So instead of waiting the customary few moments to see if anything moves inside, he reaches for the doorknob and lets himself in. 

The sound of the door being shut behind him makes him whirl around just as a key is turned in the lock, then all he can see through the mesh curtain is Denise’s retreating figure.

“Hey!” he shouts, hammering on the door to get her attention. “The fuck d’you lock me in for?” He rattles the door handle for good measure, but of course it doesn't give, and Denise is fast disappearing around the nearest corner. “Come back you stupid bitch!” he yells, but she’s gone. 

“What the fuck…”, Daryl mutters, then draws himself up, ready to kick in the door when he hears a call from somewhere deeper in the house. 

“Daryl?” 

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up. “Rick?” he shouts back, already moving to follow the sound of the other man's voice. 

“Yeah”, comes the slightly lower reply. “In the kitchen. You gotta come see this.”

The sight that greets Daryl when he enters the dining kitchen makes him blink. The family-sized dinner table is set for two, one plate on either side, laid out with the most expensive looking tableware Daryl has ever seen. Long, elegant candles at either end of the table bathe the scene in soft light, adding to the disorienting feeling of having stepped into the pages of a fancy-ass interior design magazine. 

Daryl’s eyes flick from the table to Rick. “The hell is this?” he queries suspiciously. “Some kinda intervention?”

The confused expression Rick has been wearing since Daryl entered the kitchen turns into one of amusement. “Why? D’you feel you need an intervention?” he asks drily.

“Not as much as you do”, Daryl mutters, but there's a hint of a grin hiding under his scruff as he steps over to the kitchen counter to inspect the covered dishes, bottle of wine and tins of beer sitting there waiting for… someone. 

Rick raises an eyebrow. “Me? What do I need an intervention for??”

“Your taste in music, man”, Daryl promptly shoots back over his shoulder. “It's getting outa hand.”

“Fuck you, Daryl”, Rick grins. It's a long-standing, well-rehearsed exchange between them, but apparently Daryl is also still sore over losing the coin toss for the right to drive and thus pick the music during their last supply run.

“I think that's the idea”, Daryl nods, licking his fingers from where he dipped them into one of the serving bowls as he turns to Rick with an odd expression on his face. 

Rick is back to looking as confused as he did when Daryl first came in. “What's the idea?”

Stepping aside to let Rick see all of the supplies laid out on the kitchen counter, Daryl indicates a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms sitting next to the beer and wine with a tilt of his chin. “Fucking”, he mumbles in between sucking his fingers clean.

“Wow”, Rick murmurs under his breath, blushing a little. “That’s subtle.”

“Yeah”, Daryl snorts. “Like a brick through the window.”

Rick laughs at that, while Daryl shakes his head. He can't believe Denise. A romantic dinner for him and Rick, and she’s clearly not up-to-date with Rick's relationship status either. 

“So now what?” Daryl asks.

Rick shrugs. “We could get out easily enough, I don't even think the windows are locked, but why waste all this stuff? Might as well enjoy dinner.”

“You sure you wouldn't rather do this with Michonne?” Daryl can't help but ask.

“Nah, we're good”, Rick waves his question off. “So, you in?”

Daryl raises an eyebrow at him, but Rick is already checking out the rest of the food, so he lets it go with a shrug. “Sure.” He isn't about to turn down a free dinner.

They ignore the fancy dining table in favour of the couch and their feet on the coffee table in the living room, the open bottle of wine wedged between the two seat cushions in their middle. The food is good, a rich, savoury stew with honest-to-god homemade biscuits that were still warm when they first lifted the tea towel off the cooling baking tray. 

“You reckon Carol made these?” Rick mumbles in between bites, eliciting an affirmative grunt from Daryl.

“Reckon she knew what they were for?” Rick grins.

“Nah”, Daryl says around a mouthful of gravy-soaked dough. “She ain't that stupid.”

Rick raises an eyebrow. “Stupid?” he asks distractedly, chasing the last dollop of gravy on his plate with single-minded determination. 

“Candlelight-dinner-for-you-and-me stupid”, Daryl clarifies, chewing, and contemplating his own empty plate. “‘M going for seconds. You want some?”

“Yeah, sure”, Rick passes his plate over. “Thanks.”

“So, you ‘n’ ‘Chonne?” Daryl says when he returns to the living room, stepping over Rick's outstretched legs to lower himself back down in the seat he vacated.

“What about me ‘n’ ‘Chonne?” Rick asks, tilting his head back to drain the last of the beer from his can. 

“You finally roll her ‘round the sheets?”

Instead of an answer, Rick crumples up the now empty beer can and throws it at Daryl’s head. “Don't be an ass, Daryl.”

Catching the crumpled metal before it can hit him in the face, Daryl shrugs. “What?” He lazily throws the can back at Rick. “She's good people.”

“She is”, Rick admits, catching the can and haphazardly throwing it in the direction of the slowly growing pile of empties. “And you know we shared a bed the night we brought Jesus back here.” Everyone does, thanks to Jesus's little stunt. Or at least everyone except for Denise, apparently. Rick takes a deep breath and bites his lip. “Wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you again, either”, he adds, watching Daryl intently. 

The other man chokes on his beer a little, making him cough and splutter. “Come on Rick”, he wheezes, thumping his chest with his fist. “We ain't on the road no more.”

“I know.” Rick nods, reaching for a new can of beer. “No need to share space or body heat, right?” he adds a little wistfully as he pops the top.

“Yeah”, Daryl grunts, avoiding Rick’s gaze. “‘nuff beds for everyone.”

“Plenty warm enough, too”, Rick agrees, nodding again. Then, after a pause, he adds: “I miss you.”

Daryl still won't look him in the eyes, but Rick hears his mumbled “Yeah. Me, too.” just fine. 

They fall silent, the soft sputtering of the candles they'd brought in from the kitchen the only thing to be heard until Rick queries: 

“So, you ‘n’ Carol?”

Daryl snorts and shakes his head. “Naw man, she’s like the sister I never had. ‘Be like shagging Merle.” He shudders.

Rick smirks. “I should hope that sleeping with Carol would be nothing like shagging Merle.”

Daryl briefly lifts a foot to give him a none too gentle nudge in the shin. “Ya know what I mean”, he says, a little sharp, throwing Rick an unimpressed glare through narrowed eyes. “Don't be a dick, Rick.”

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Daryl gives Rick another sharp look, then re-crosses his legs and settles back into the couch cushions, accepting the other's apology with a small grunt. 

Eventually, after they've eaten all the food, emptied the bottle of wine, and created a small pyramid of crumpled up beer tins on the floor, Rick stretches out along the length of the couch, his feet in Daryl’s lap. Daryl slumps in his seat in the corner, feet remaining on the coffee table. 

"Stretch out?" Rick asks, too lazy even to form a full sentence. 

"Nah, I'm good", Daryl shakes his head.

"Plenty of space", Rick coaxes.

Daryl shakes his head again. "Yer alright."

"Be more comfortable", Rick argues.

"This is fine", Daryl shrugs.

Rick mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Fuck's sake, Daryl", then enunciates exaggeratedly "I am cold", and stares at Daryl with an eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

“Th’ hell ya are, ya sap”, Daryl huffs, but finally relents and shifts to stretch out alongside Rick, grabbing a folded blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it over them for good measure. “Happy now?” he grouses once he's settled in.

Rick's only reply is a contented hum.


	2. Make that dinner for three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Four years.

For once Daryl doesn't start awake like he usually does, but gradually comes to to the sensation of Rick caressing his face instead. He gives a quiet hum and receives a barely-there chuckle in return as Rick’s hand settles on his cheek. The next thing Daryl notices is Rick's morning wood poking him in the thigh, and he answers with a sleepy roll of his hips under the cover of the blanket while tilting his head up to blindly search for Rick's mouth. 

Warm, stubble-framed lips obligingly meet his, and Daryl relaxes into the contact. He always sleeps better when he gets to share space with Rick, and since he can't hear anyone else move about yet he's in no hurry to separate again for the day. It's been a while since they last holed up anywhere safe enough to let their guards down for the night, and he's determined to make the most of it. 

Then there's the sound of somebody clearing their throat, and Daryl's eyes fly open as he realises - remembers - with a flinch that they're not on the road anymore, but behind the walls of Alexandria.

“This ain't what it looks like", tumbles out of his mouth before he's even made up his mind to open it. 

Michonne crosses her arms over her chest where she's leaning in the doorway to the kitchen and gives him an unimpressed look. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, chances are it's a duck", she says meaningfully.

Judging by the fact Daryl pauses in pulling his shoes on long enough to give her the stink-eye in return, Rick guesses Michonne is using Daryl's own words against him, but then he abruptly focuses on something more important: Daryl is pulling his shoes on. He is leaving. 

"Daryl, wait", Rick says, but before he's disentangled himself from the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the sofa, Daryl has pushed past Michonne, evading her outstretched hand, and is gone. 

"Fuck", Rick mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Michonne's gaze swings from the front door falling shut to Rick's face like a laser sight. "Please don't tell me you still haven't spoken to him", she says, incredulously.

"I didn't quite get there last night", Rick admits. He rubs both hands over his beard and repeats "Fuck".

Michonne contemplates this for a moment, then her face breaks out in a shit-eating grin. "So you thought you'd get there this morning?" she teases. 

Rick's dark look only makes her grin grow wider.

Alexandria isn't exactly big, but it turns out it's big enough to keep a person looking for a while when someone else doesn't want to be found. Especially when that someone else is Daryl.

The first thing Michonne does is to ensure Daryl hasn't simply left the settlement to go hunting, but his crossbow is still in the mud-room of their shared house, and Rosita, who's been on gate duty since sunrise, hasn't seen him either. 

Next, Michonne drops by Aaron and Eric's, which proves to be as much of a dead end as the gate. 

Then she swings by the house where they'd first locked up Jesus. She does find Jesus, now settled rather than locked up, but he just looks bemused when she asks whether he's seen Daryl. 

Just as she's considering knocking on every door - someone has to have seen Daryl, and she is a constable now, so no-one's going to ask too many questions - Michonne realises she's going about this the wrong way. So instead of asking more people, she starts searching the corners of Alexandria that people don't go to.

She eventually finds Daryl on the platform overlooking the small area outside the back wall where they sometimes deposit walker remains for burning. It's been some time since they last had to use it, so the smell's tolerable. 

Daryl doesn't turn around when she climbs the ladder to the platform, and doesn't say anything when she moves to stand next to him. 

So she stays quiet, too.

"Say it", he finally mutters, still staring out at the trees.

"Say what?" 

"I'm an asshole", Daryl says.

Michonne shakes her head. "No, you're not. - Not in this instance, anyway", she amends with a shrug.

Daryl turns to look at her sharply, and she continues:

“I’m the last person who would stop you being close to Rick, you've got to know that." She tilts her head in a manner so reminiscent of Rick Daryl would snort if the situation wasn't so desperately unfunny. “That night after…” She hesitates almost imperceptibly. “After those guys almost killed you and tried to rape Carl”, she then pushes on. “I felt too enclosed in the car, so I cracked the windows. I heard you”, she continues even as Daryl narrows his eyes. 

“Whatever you think you heard, it ain't - “, he starts, but Michonne stops him short. 

“Daryl.” 

She doesn't sound angry, or accusing, but she's clearly not going to let this go, so Daryl abruptly closes his mouth and takes a step back. Before he can turn away from her though Michonne continues:

“You and I, we were never exclusive, back when we were chasing Blake.”

When she doesn't say anything else, Daryl shrugs. They never really talked about what they were doing, so he guesses that's a fair enough assessment, even if he's reasonably certain neither of them hooked up with anyone else at the time. Not until that night he nearly lost his family just after finding them again, anyway. The night he and Rick spent reassuring each other they were still alive while Michonne soothed Carl, when it probably should've been Rick soothing Carl, and Michonne and Daryl reassuring each other. 

Almost as if hearing Daryl’s thoughts, Michonne shakes her head. “Rick and I aren't exclusive, either”, she says. When she sees Daryl’s eyes widen, her smile morphs into something much more mischievous. “Not to you, anyway”, she qualifies, showing off her brilliant teeth. "That's what Rick was meant to tell you."

"Ya tellin' me that you organised that candlelight-intervention?" Daryl looks at her suspiciously.

Michonne scoffs. "Do I look like the type to organise candlelight dinners for anyone? - Don't answer that", she warns when Daryl opens his mouth. 

He shrugs. "Okay, so who then?"

Now it's her turn to shrug. "Denise. I'm not sure what she thought she was doing, but I thought Rick might take the opportunity to finally speak to you. That's why I walked in on you this morning."

"Huh." Daryl looks at his feet for a moment, then back up at Michonne. "How long was Rick meant to tell me for?"

Michonne rolls her eyes. "Pretty much since the moment we kicked Jesus out of our bedroom." Then her expression turns serious, and she looks at Daryl from under her eye-lashes. "What do you think?"

Daryl regards her for a few moments, then he smirks: "I'm thinking ya maybe shoulda asked Denise to tell me in the first place."


End file.
